Christmas 2017
But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. Luke 11:20 (ESV)
Mary inherited it all.
No woman in her town had ever inherited anything. Inheritance went to the son. Inheritance went to the daughter’s husband. Inheritance went to a man chosen by the father.
None of this happened. There were no sons. There was only one daughter, Mary. She was unmarried, and no man was chosen to inherit in her place.
Even though her father possessed a fortune, a fortune that would last over a lifetime, no man thought her father’s businesses, the inheritance of a very rich man, was enough to marry Mary.
Mary was possessed by demons.
Those demons manifest themselves almost every day.
The worst of the demons would throw her to the ground convulsing until she foamed at the mouth.
Another demon would take her and put her into a sleep so deep that no one could wake her.
Many thought the demon making the strange sounds with her lips was cursing those around her.
One demon caused her to walk devoid of all awareness, inhabiting her as she walked unknowingly around the house or the streets. Jewish women seldom walked on the streets of Magdela, but the demon forced her to go wherever he wished.
One of the demons that possessed her made Mary drop the water bucket, or the dishes, or whatever food she was trying to prepare. The demon enjoyed dropping and breaking whatever was around him.
Sometimes a demon would throw her from the her sleeping platform while another caused her to spill her urine as she slept.
Seven demons.
* * * * * *
There were those who thought Mary should be stoned to rid her of the demons and protect their town. Rabbis had repeatedly tried to cast them from her and failed.
Her father spoke fervently to those who wished to take her life. He was a man of great riches, and Mary’s father was a man well respected in spite of his afflicted child. No one was willing to demand such a solution.
To the rabbis, he paid large sums of money. But the demons did not leave.
Mary’s father loved his daughter dearly. Mary’s mother had died in childbirth. Even in his grief, he rejoiced in Mary’s survival. Mary’s face was her mother’s face.
Her father had provided Mary with Salome, an unmarried cousin, to live with them and care for Mary when the demons possessed her.
Salome would follow Mary and gently guide her until the possession passed. She slept in Mary’s room and went to her when she fell from her bed, cleaning her clothes after Mary wet herself. Salome would stay beside her until the shaking stopped. She picked up the pieces of whatever Mary dropped.
Salome did not fear Mary’s smacking lips.
Salome became like a sister to Mary. Salome was not afraid of the demons. Salome was convinced that one day Mary would find a rabbi who could cast them out.
Mary loved Salome dearly.
Mary always treated Salome as her equal, a relationship that despite what Salome did for her, was not the norm. Salome had entered the household to serve Mary. That she performed her tasks well and gladly made Salome a good servant. But to Mary, Salome was sister. She was companion.
So when Salome came to Mary about the itinerant rabbi, Mary listened to her as an equal.
“Mary, I think Jesus may be the one to heal you.”
Mary smiled. Salome had such faith, but Mary had so little hope left. As if to confirm Mary’s conviction that she would not be healed, the demon who threw her to the ground. The demon finally released Mary only to have the other demon who put her in an unnatural sleep take his place.
Salome didn’t give up. She cared for Mary as always, but hours later when the demon released Mary, Salome spoke again of the traveling rabbi.
“We must go to him, Mary. He says such strange things but people are saying he has the power to heal. News of him has traveled through the tradesmen. Jesus could be the one to save you from your demons.”
Mary agreed to go.
Mary was not allowed any part of managing her father’s businesses, even after he died and they belonged to her. However, Mary never lacked for funds for whatever her need. Mary and Salome began their journey to find this Jesus, to see for themselves if what the people were saying was true.
When they first came upon Jesus, the crowds kept them far away. Men pushed the women aside as they fought for space to hear Jesus speak. His teaching was like no other. The men did not understand him but came back day after day. They never noticed the women except to wonder why there were so many.
Jesus’s mother could be seen preparing meals and attending to the needs of Jesus’s followers. Jesus’s sisters helped their mother, but Mary and Salome quickly discerned that their means were meager. Perhaps there was a way to get closer to Jesus through these women.
“ You are the mother of Jesus?” Salome asked.
“Yes. I am Mary, the mother of Jesus.”
The radiance of Mary’s face as she answered was beyond that of a loving mother. Mary spoke of her son in reverent terms. She spoke as a follower. She answered as if speaking of him as rabbi, not son. It was a strange encounter.
“We would like to help.” Salome continued. “My cousin has great means. She can purchase much of what you need for so large a group.”
Mary received the offer with thanksgiving, an answer to her prayers, for their need was great. Food was an everyday challenge.
* * * * * *
Days passed before Mary saw Jesus. It happened when the demon took over her mouth with its discordant cacophony. Jesus came to Mary and pressed his fingers to her lips, an unthinkable thing for a man to do to a strange woman. But her lips stilled at his touch. Jesus looked to his mother who gave him a beatific smile and then went on his way.
Mary barely understood what had happened as Salome embraced her. “I knew he was the one.”
Several days later, Mary’s demon led her in a trance around their campsite. His followers watched Mary with fear, but when Jesus saw her, he pressed his hand under her chin and said “Leave her.” Once again, Jesus had touched this woman who was not a relative.
The demon never returned.
The followers began to wonder about this woman who had gained so much of Jesus’s attention.
Jesus rebuked the demon who dropped things from her hands by taking Mary’s hands in his. The dropping stopped. This was the third demon Jesus had taken from her.
When the day came that a demon threw Mary to the ground foaming at the mouth, several of the women sought Jesus to come to her.
“Leave her” he spoke to the demon and her convulsions ended. But the demon who kept her in an unnatural sleep took over. “Awake” Jesus spoke again and her eyes opened and Mary stood before him with tears in her eyes.
“You will sleep peacefully, Mary. Your demons are gone.”
It would be many days before the followers knew he had also cast out the nighttime demons. The women who knew and spoke of it with such amazement soon spread the news to the men in their group.
Jesus had cast seven demons from Mary.
Mary, overcome with her joy, embraced Jesus, laughing and crying and thanking him over and over. This was the most shocking of all. His disciples had never seen such a thing. Jesus did nothing to hinder her.
Jesus ignored their murmured protests. “Mary. You and Salome will follow me to the end.”
* * * * *
And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” Mark 4:30-32 (ESV)
Neriah slept soundly, her black curls tangled in her mother’s thin cloak. She still had the soft fine hair of a toddler. It would be several years before she would need a braid or bun. The silken tendrils surrounding her face barely reached past her chin.
Her mother, Joanna, held her close, trying to shield her from the cold. Mother and daughter huddled together of necessity as well as affection. Joanna longed for another cloak to wrap around her shivering daughter. Her mother’s heart ached for Neriah’s misery. But her husband had left to find work as a day laborer before the dawn broke. He had left their warm bed taking his cloak with him.
Sleep came hard with the cold. Joanna hugged her daughter tighter and prayed for a break in the weather.
In spite of the chill, Ephraim did not sleep close to his wife. She could feel his anger and it had been long since he had turned to her in the night.
Ephraim could not complain that Joanna was barren. Twice before Neriah she had become pregnant but lost both of her children before her sixth month. Then, Neriah was born. Joanna’s joy was beyond measure.
Ephraim was barely pleased. She had finally given birth, but it had been a girl.
“Another worthless woman to bring into my house.”
Ephraim’s harsh words did nothing to diminish Joanna’s delight in her daughter. From the moment she looked into the brightness of Neriah’s dark eyes, she had loved her with a fierceness she had never known.
Joanna had a duty to her husband. Love was not expected. Not for her. Not even from her. Her duty was to care for the home and produce male children. She excelled at the first but had failed in the last.
Her next pregnancy after Neriah had come sooner than the others. It seemed that having given birth to one child, her misfortune had ended. The sixth month passed and then the seventh. Although her pride in Neriah was complete, Joanna prayed fervently that her next child would be a boy, that her duty to her husband would be fulfilled and that he could realize the meaning of his name, for Ephraim means fruitful.
Her son was born tiny and weak. He died before his circumcision. Ephraim’s anger filled their house. He went from his labor to the synagogue returning later each day for their evening meal.
Joanna’s grief overwhelmed her. Her comfort was Neriah. Her heart swelled with both joy and sorrow.
Ephraim had not touched her since their son’s death. She could hear him cry in the night. He thought she was asleep. She was not. She joined him in his tears, hers falling as silently as his.
Ephraim had often laughed at Neriah. A cheerful child, Neriah’s antics entertained everyone. She giggled at unintelligible conversations she held with her doll. She loved to pat her chubby cheeks. She had a spark to her that reveled at each new discovery.
Now her husband ignored them both.
It was sons that provided the way to success for a woman, but Joanna could never see Neriah as a failure. How could anyone resist Neriah’s infectious smile? Joanna knew the law made women no more than property, a law that declared her child without worth. But how could a child such as Neriah not be loved, not be valued?
Joanna ached with longing that it could be so.
But there was no answer except that that was the way it was, the way it had always been.
There would not be many more nights of this cold. More often were the sweltering days when they sought comfort on the roof. Theirs was the small, square, one room home of a day laborer. It was shelter but held little comfort. Meals were cooked in a fire pit outside their house. There were no animals to bring warmth into the room or food into their belly.
* * * * *
When Ephraim didn’t come home one night, Joanna had been sad but not fearful. There could be many reasons for his absence. When he was still gone a week later, her fears became palpable. After a month, she despaired of him returning.
Ephraim left Joanna destitute. A day laborer was always in more danger of want than the men he worked for. When there was no work, there was no pay.
Joanna was left in limbo. She was not divorced. She was not a widow.
It made little difference in her need. Widowed or divorced created the same hardship on a woman alone, even harder for a woman with a child.
Divorce or the death of her husband would have given Joanna the option of going back to her parents with her young daughter, but her family lived far away and Joanna had no way to go to them even if she could. Left or rejected made no difference.
There were only two options open to a woman with no male relatives or husband to support her. She became a prostitute or she lived near starvation, gleaning the leavings of another man’s field.
Leaving a portion of grain for the poor was part of the Torah. Grapes from the vineyards and olives from the olive trees were a part of this law.
But Joanna found the adherence to this law to be very different among landowners. A few were generous, even telling their workers to leave some sheaths and fruit untouched. Most followed the letter of the law only. They left enough to fulfill the law but not enough to meet the needs of the poor. Those with the largest fields and the most to spare were often the least likely to be generous.
It was hard work. Joanna left before dawn in the mornings and did not return until darkness made her task impossible. She carried Neriah with her, wrapped in her cloak. Neriah was no burden on the way to the fields and vineyards, but Joanna struggled home on the days when the gleanings were best. Other days there was little extra to carry. Those days were harder.
Neriah played beside her as Joanna worked. She had grown thinner but her joy in play had not diminished. Her frolic brought a smile to the women around her. Many picked away from Joanna giving her more for herself and her child.
Ephraim did not return.
* * * * *
The rabbi was coming to their town. Everyone was talking about this healer and how different he was. He had a great following of both men and women.
Joanna found this hard to believe. This was something she wanted to see for herself, a man who allowed women in his circle of disciples.
Neriah was getting harder to carry, but the distance was more than her daughter could walk. She left early.
Joanna sat in the back of the crowd, straining to hear Jesus’s words. He was talking about sheep. What teacher had ever concerned himself with the life of a shepherd. She wished that she could hear better what he was saying.
Mary picked out Joanna’s face from among the crowd. It was gaunt with hunger but the greater hunger was in her eyes. Mary knew this woman was straining to hear the words of Jesus but was hindered by the distance. Beside her was a little girl who wandered between the other women, bringing a smile wherever she went.
Mary watched people more carefully since Jesus had freed her from the demons. Even with her affliction, she had never lived in physical want. Her needs had always been met. She had been so sheltered from the needs of those around her.
Mary knew that this woman was in need. There were so many like her in Judea, struggling every day just to feed herself and her child. But Mary saw more in this woman. She saw a hunger that was beyond an empty stomach.
Mary went to Joanna and offered to take her closer to Jesus.
“Come, be our guest. You cannot possibly hear from so far away. Join us in our food and drink.”
Joanna yearned to be closer but hesitated. This was obviously a woman of great wealth. But her gathering had yielded little this week. She knew Neriah was hungry and it was evident that the meal they were having was abundant.
“Thank you so much for your kindness.”
Joanna followed Mary, Neriah’s hand in hers. Neriah was delighted to play with the other children in the gathering and was overwhelmed by an amount of food she had never experienced.
As Joanna listened, she was astounded by Jesus’s words. A wealthy young man had asked Jesus what he must do to enter the kingdom of heaven of which Jesus spoke. His answer left the young man in dismay. Jesus told him he must give away all of his wealth. What an absurd thing to ask. Why would a rich man give up his riches?
As she pondered this strange exchange, Joanna was distracted by arguments among the male disciples who had been with Jesus from the beginning. They were arguing over who would be greatest among their group. The one called Peter was the most adamant of his right to leadership and reward. Another disciple berated him and Peter left in anger.
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”
The crowd was bewildered by his words. Did he mean every time?
Could she forgive Ephraim for deserting her? She thought of his tears in the night. Would he ever forgive her for not giving him the son he so longed for? She did not know.
Several of the women, some accompanied by their husbands, came forward asking for Jesus to bless their babies. The disciples tried to push them away.
“Jesus is teaching. He has no time to bless your children.”
But Jesus admonished them.
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Joanna realized with surprise and trepidation that Neriah had made her way among the children to be blessed. She was even more astounded when Jesus lifted Neriah in his arms and held her.
“Whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.
At that moment, Neriah began to pat Jesus’s face and laughed. Jesus laughed with her and held her close before setting her down.
Tears flowed down Joanna’s cheeks. This famous teacher had held her child and told the entire crowd of her worth. Jesus had taken Neriah, a female child considered the lowest of the low, and made known to all who were assembled there that she should be welcomed and loved.
This was as much miracle for Joanna as for those who had been healed of their disease. Her daughter had been raised up above the disciples as one who is worthy, Joanna’s greatest hope realized in this one act.
“Jesus teaches that the kingdom of heaven is for the poor as well as the rich, Joanna, for women as well as men. Salome and I sit with the others as Jesus reveals to us what he means in his teaching.”
Joanna was without words. How could this be?
As she pondered these things, Neriah ran to Joanna with her arms open wide, babbling happily about the man with the kind eyes and the funny laugh.
“ He held me up so high, Ima”
“It’s because you are so beautiful, Neriah!”
‘No, Ima, We are all beautiful.”
Mary smiled. “You are so right, Neriah.”
Mary, Salome and Joanna turned as some of the lawyers approached Jesus and asked, “What is the greatest commandment? “
He quoted them part of the shema. “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength and with all your mind”
And then he said, “You should love your neighbor as yourself.”
“You are my neighbor, Joanna.”
What could Mary mean? Joanna thought. Mary surely lived in a fine house. They were not neighbors.
“ You are my neighbor because I can help you. We can help each other. You don’t have to be alone.”
Could this be true? For this woman to care about Joanna and her child was beyond her comprehension.
To not be alone.
“We will never be alone when we have each other,” Mary promised.
We are not alone.
- Joanna means God is gracious
- Neriah means Lamp of the Lord
- Ephraim means fruitful
- Mary means wished for child, beloved
- Salome means peace
